Blood Red Roses
by Kid Vicious2
Summary: Buffy is dead and Spike is considering his options.


Blood Red Roses  
  
This is when I wish I could have bloody died in her place. Instead of sitting, lonely, in a crypt that once gave me peace. I can't look around this place and not remember when she kissed me, the way she looked at me. As if she accepted me. Why does the burning fire in my fireplace look so death-ridden? I can tell you why. Why I haven't gone to eat anything something in three days. Why my face is a paler shade of white. Why my hands are still stained with blood. I'll tell you why. Because my angel has gone back up to heaven. And I'm still in this hell town. Still sitting on the same bloody armchair I've been in since she died. My face, slowly healing the wounds from the brutal fight. And all I have are the images. The memories. The haunting images. The realization of the want in her imaginary eyes. I can remember now, the first time I ever saw her face and the last time I spoke her name.  
The bronze was too crowded that night when I first saw her in the flesh. But I saw her. Anyone could pick her out of the crowd. At the construction site, it seemed even more crowded. Even if it was just the Scooby Gang, and me staring at her lifeless body. Just lying there. She looked peaceful. She looked happy. That was the last time I ever saw her. I couldn't even go to her funeral. It was during the day. I think the Scooby Gang made it that way. I haven't even gotten up to visit her gravesite. Now, I just sit here staring at the coffin I use for a bed. Being who I am now, I am somewhat glad that I was turned. Because I would have never lived to know Buffy. But when I was close to her, I wanted a heart beat. Just to see myself in a mirror. To give her a picture of me. To be a real friend to her. Instead of her enemy. But now it's too late. And it kills me. I see blood red roses on my fireplace mantle. They are beginning to wilt. They were for Buffy, I was going to give them to her after we stopped Glory and saved Dawn. But now they just sit there. A haunting reminder that she is gone. Dead. Glancing at the clock, I see what time it is. 2:42 in the morning. I should be out eating by now. But my body won't move. My muscles have gotten used to being in this position. I feel my eyes welding up with tears as I think about what I said to Buffy the day she died. " I know you'll never love me". My words violently embedded themselves into my brain. Into the back of my skull. Why did this have to happen now, when I learned to finally love her? Poetic Justice, I guess. Funny lil' thing love can be. It tied me up in metal ropes every time she looked me in the eyes. It ripped a dagger through my dead heart. She dug her nails into my flesh every time we argued. But I accepted it. I learned to get used to it. To the torture. And she learned to deal with me. I guess the right way to explain this is that she learned to deal with me and I learned to love her. Maybe in her mind at one time, the feelings were mutual. Why am I basking in the memories of her and I? I try to fall asleep. But my hunger keeps my eyes open. I growl deep in my throat. Tonight is going to be a long night. I move my arm to my eyes, trying to keep my tears from falling down my dead cheeks. I know I miss her, but I try not to show it. I'm the "Big Bad" and everyone in the world knows it. So, why cry? To show that I've gone soft? That now I'm a bloody poof? To show that I have truly fell in love with my born enemy. The Slayer. I'm not like Riley and I'm sure as hell not like Angel. Wanker. But I loved her nonetheless. I learned to love without a soul. Without a pulse. Without a conscience. I learned. I think she knew that. I hope she knew. I hope she truly understood my love for her. But now she's gone. Probably listening to every thought that is running through my head. Hi Buffy. I laugh out loud but my wounds are still bringing me a shooting pain up my spine. I stop laughing quickly. I wince in shock from the pain. I breathe heavily through my nose and almost cry out her name. But I hold it in quickly and begin to get up from my comforting armchair. My muscles are sore from lack of moving for three days and my stomach is scolding me for not eating. I glance at the clock again. 3:02. Closer and closer to another day beginning. I think once or twice about going and getting a bite to eat. But I stay standing there, in front of the burning fire in my fireplace. I stare at the roses on my mantle. Another peddle falls onto the wood of the mantle. My mind once again fills with images of Buffy. I realize I don't care if I cry. My tears fall like water falling from a sink fosite. I grab the roses and throw them into the fire. I watch the blood red color of them turn to blackness. Then they wither away into ashes. Just like my heart. When nothing is left of the once magnificent roses, I turn to wipe my tears and my eyes fall onto one red rose left on the floor, by my fireplace. I pick it up and cut my finger on a thorn. My blood seeps out of my skin. Blood red.  
Before the sun came up, I took the last dead rose and slowly walked to Buffy's grave. I had never seen it before. It was beautiful. So was the name on it. Just as the person who once owned the name. 'Buffy Anne Summers'. I put the delicate rose on the grass in front of her tombstone. My blood from my finger still fresh, I swipe it through her name on the tombstone. In the shape of a railroad spike. "Good-night Buffy" I walk away into the darkness back to my crypt and dream of her. Just to wake up to another angel lost to the night.  
  
The End By: Shannon Cali 4:33 P.M. September 19, 2001 Wednesday 


End file.
